The senior curate solemnly uncovered and removed the chalice. Taking
bread and wine, he deposited the sacred vessels at the north end of the
altar, returned to the centre, unfolded the corporal, received the alms,
and as solemnly set the great gold dish on the corporal itself, after the
unmeaning custom of the church. And then came the long prayer and the
solemn procession to the vestry, while a dozen or two stayed with the
senior curate for the Communion.

Graham found himself in the little inner vestry, with its green-cloth
table and massive inkstand and registers, and began to unvest
mechanically. He got his coat out of the beautiful carved wardrobe, and
was folding up his hood and surplice, when the Rector laid a patronising
hand on his shoulder. "A good sermon, Graham," he said--"a good sermon,
if a little emotional. It was a pity you forgot the doxology. But it is
a great occasion, I fear a greater occasion than we know, and you rose to
it very well. Last night I had half a mind to 'phone you not to come, and
to preach myself, but I am glad now I did not. I am sure we are very
grateful. Eh, Sir Robert?"

Sir Robert Doyle, the other warden, was making neat piles of sovereigns
on the green cloth, while Mr. Lessing counted the silver as to the manner
born. He was a pillar of the church, too, was Sir Robert, but a soldier
and a straight speaker. He turned genially to the young man.

"From the shoulder, Rector," he said. "Perhaps it will make a few of us
sit up a little. Coming down to church I met Arnold of the War Office,
and he said war was certain. Of course it is. Germany has been playing up
for it for years, and we fools have been blind and mad. But it'll come
now. Thank God, I can still do a bit, and maybe we shall meet out there